


Ghosts

by Irvy



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Canon Compliant Through S8, Canon Gay Relationship, I'm Sorry, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Minor Acxa/Veronica (Voltron), Minor Keith/Lance (Voltron), Not A Fix-It, One-Sided Keith/Shiro (Voltron), POV Minor Character, Past Adam/Shiro (Voltron), Pining Shiro (Voltron), Shiro (Voltron) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Shiro (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, Shiro (Voltron) is a Mess, Unrequited Love, everyone deserved better
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-10-03 23:54:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17293727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Irvy/pseuds/Irvy
Summary: It would be so much easier if the ghost haunting Shiro's eyes was a dead man.Curtis falls in love despite knowing the truth: Shiro is everything to him, but he isn't everything to Shiro. It's someone else's name on Shiro's lips when he wakes up screaming, and Curtis is so in love that he stays, picking up pieces of both their hearts.His love can be enough for both of them. It has to be.





	Ghosts

**Author's Note:**

> This is not a fix-it. I'm sorry. I cried at the end of season 8 because Klance and Sheith, and Allura, and well...you get it.
> 
> That said, I don't want to heap hate on Curtis. The guy really should've been fleshed out more. So that's what I'm doing. Curtis, this one's for you, since the writers didn't see fit to give you more than background scenes. I think Curtis is hella cute and like everyone else, he deserved better in s8.

It would be so much easier if the ghost haunting Shiro's eyes was a dead man.

Curtis had known Adam. Admittedly not that well, but they'd done simulations together a few times. They'd worked well together, despite Curtis's specialization in communications and Adam's in flight. And they were two of the few openly gay officers at the Garrison, so Curtis felt a sort of kinship with him, a manufactured camaraderie but a connection nonetheless.

When the Kerberos mission first launched, and again when news came of the mission's tragic failure, Curtis wanted to say something. Everyone seemed to accept that it was pilot error. Except Adam. And Curtis didn't know him well enough to say anything real, anything that would make a difference. He couldn't do more than tell Adam, "I'm here if you need me."

He's always saying that to someone, and it's rare they actually take him up on it.

Hell, Curtis knows it's pathetic. Needing to be needed - that's a recipe for being walked on. Or being walked _out_ on.

But he can't help himself.

He can't help falling in love.

Shiro was - _is_ \- everything Curtis would never let himself dream of. Not just because he's a commanding officer. When the universe - hell, the multiverse - is on the line, no one really gives a damn about fraternization.

Curtis is a fool if he believes he's enough for a former Paladin of Voltron, captain of the IGF Atlas, _the_ Takashi Shirogane.

But he can't help falling in love.

Maybe it was the first time Shiro praised him for a job well done, after Veronica and Iverson were off the bridge for shift change. For the briefest moment, it was just the two of them. And it was nothing, really, but Curtis's nerves were raw after leaving Earth. He was hungry for connection, any scrap of kindness that affirmed he'd made the right choice.

Curtis had been waiting to be sure there were no further incoming transmissions from Matt and the rebels. And Shiro, well, he was almost always the last one off the bridge. Curtis admired that about him.

"Thanks for giving it your all, Curtis," Shiro had said. "We couldn't do this without you."

Curtis sputtered at first, unsure how to reply. It was Iverson and Veronica who'd done the real work, kept up a volley until Voltron could destroy the enemy. Although Curtis handled some of the weapons systems, most of that fell to Veronica.

Then he'd said, "I'm just doing what needs to be done, sir."

"It may be your job, but I still appreciate how dedicated you are. I don't see anyone else staying here after shift change. Make sure you take some time for yourself after this." And Shiro had been close, so close, standing next to Curtis's tactical station. "You don't have to call me 'sir' all the time, either."

"Thank you, sir. I mean Shiro, sir? Um…thanks again." Curtis gave up any dignity and escaped before he could further embarrass himself.

Maybe it was their meetings in the mess hall, when Curtis had finished his shift on the bridge only to take a second shift in the comm labs. He'd scan for possible Galra transmissions, or for news of the rebels or the Blades. More than that, he'd look for anything that might reveal Honerva's next move, the whereabouts of her Komar mechs.

Normally, he ate with Veronica and the MFE pilots after shift change. Acxa had started joining them more often, though she was still prickly and not much for questions unless the one asking them was Veronica. At night, though, Acxa was in the gym or the shooting range, and Veronica and the MFEs had the good sense to sleep before another busy day.

But one of those late nights, exhausted but not tired enough to go to bed, Curtis found himself in the mess with one Captain Shirogane.

"Can't sleep?" Shiro asked.

Curtis shook his head, dragging his fork through the pasta he was supposed to be eating. "I think I'll just stare at Fraunhofer lines behind my eyelids if I try going to bed now."

Shiro's smile was soft. "You need to sleep if you want to be alert," he said.

"I could say the same to you."

"You could," Shiro sighed. "I've never been good at following my own advice."

"Is there something on your mind? I mean, beyond the whole universe being threatened thing," Curtis added hastily. "Maybe it'd help to talk about it."

Shiro chuckled a little, although it was tinged with...something. "That's a big part of it, but no, I'm trying to stay focused on the things I can immediately control. I can't do anything to protect the universe right this second, and I think that's what keeps me awake."

"Yeah, it's hard, giving up control."

"It is," Shiro said.

"I may be totally out of line here, sir - Shiro," Curtis corrected himself. "But you're running yourself ragged, trying to protect everyone. You're an amazing pilot and commander. Trust that you've built the best crew you can, and they'll fulfill the mission. The Paladins won't let you down."

Curtis wondered then, if he had imagined the pink tinge that seemed to bloom under Shiro's scar. He wondered later, with the gift of hindsight, if Shiro blushed at the praise or the mention of the Paladins.

His cheeks still pink, Shiro had countered, "What about you? I hear from Veronica that you've been spending nights scanning for transmissions. You're a great communications specialist but you can't do it all yourself. You need to rest too."

Curtis laughed. "I guess I'm no good at taking my own advice either."

Shiro rested his head in his hand, smiling at a memory. "I can't tell you how many nights I was awake on the Castle of Lions, planning to use the training deck myself, and I'd find Keith already there. I was a hypocrite, ordering him to get to bed when I didn't plan on sleeping myself," Shiro recalled. "I won't let it happen again. Finish eating and get to bed, Curtis."

Curtis smiled. "Deal." He offered his fork. "But first, help me finish this?"

"Whatever it takes for us both to get some sleep."

Late nights in the mess hall became Shiro intercepting Curtis on his way to the communications lab. It became the two of them walking to the mess hall or, after an especially shitty day on the bridge when nothing could go right, to the gym. Curtis tried to keep his observations of his captain's physique professional, but if he was honest with himself, Shiro bench pressing the equivalent of Curtis's body weight made his mouth dry and his blood flood south.

He watched Shiro's lips all the time and tried to convince himself Shiro was watching his. He meant to keep his distance. Shiro wasn't meant for him.

Shiro was meant for someone else. It was obvious, the way Shiro's gaze shifted even though his body language never betrayed him.

Meanwhile, Curtis's body was constantly betraying him when he was around Shiro.

Maybe it was physical at first - but no, Curtis knew the difference between lust and…

Well, he knew that what he'd felt for Shiro then, what he feels for him now, is beyond a physical pull.

God, he's an idiot.

All those nights on the Atlas, walking back to his quarters with Shiro, happy to be alone together, and they had never walked alone at all.

It would be so much easier if the ghost tailing Shiro's footsteps was Adam.

People forgot sometimes that Curtis was a soldier too. His specialty wasn't combat, but he had fought and seen his friends die along with everyone else at the Garrison, everyone on the Atlas.

He knew that Shiro was haunted.

He had known, deep down, by what.

The war, obviously. And it was more than that. It was more than the enslavement, the arena. It was different than dying, being trapped in the void, relying on Black to carry his spirit.

All of those things, Shiro had told Curtis. Slowly, the more their paths crossed on the Atlas, the more layers Shiro peeled away. When it was especially bad, Curtis would open his door to find Shiro there, darting furtive glances down the hall like he'd been followed.

He had, but not by anyone tangible.

Those were horrible nights, when tears streaked down Shiro's face and he finally sobbed. The darkness of space seemed to close in then, so the only warmth left in the world was the warmth between their bodies, the hot spill of Shiro's tears on Curtis's shirt and his sheets.

"I tried - no one could hear my warnings. They couldn't -" Shiro wept into Curtis's shoulder, and Curtis drew the circle of his arms closer. "Not even Keith. He was right there - I saw him through the Lion's eyes - but he may as well have been across the universe."

Curtis gave Shiro a squeeze, then stroked his hands up and down Shiro's back. Slowly, reverently, he traced the bumps of Shiro's spine, curled his hands around the thick muscle of Shiro's shoulders and clung there.

"They can hear you now," Curtis soothed. "Keith hears you. I hear you. You're alive. You're here with me. It's a memory. A bad dream."

"I'm sorry," Shiro said. "I'm keeping you awake. I'm fucked up."

"You're the strongest person I've ever met. I don't think you're fucked up. You've had it rough." Curtis rested his head atop Shiro's, letting Shiro's white hair tickle the tip of his nose. He stroked up and down Shiro's back again. "I'm grateful to Keith for bringing you back."

"Keith -" and Shiro let out a shaky, shuddering breath. Then, "Keith saved me." He didn't say anything more.

Curtis didn't care that his leg fell asleep under Shiro's weight, or that every time he tried to change positions, Shiro shifted closer again. He didn't care that his shirt was wet or that the glow of Shiro's arm pierced the darkness and lit the tracks of his tears. He cradled Shiro in his arms - this perfect, beautiful, broken man who deserved a life of peace that the universe hadn't seen fit to give him.

Curtis resolved to do what the universe wouldn't.

So if Shiro drew close, if Shiro breathed another name against Curtis's chest right over his heart, Curtis bit the inside of his cheek and tasted Shiro's name in his own blood with every one of his own breaths.

"I destroy everything I touch," Shiro said one night.

They had just come to Curtis's quarters from the gym. Heedless of how sweaty he was, Curtis took Shiro by the shoulders and spun him around, hauled Shiro into his arms.

"How can you say that?" he asked. "That's not true."

"I can't keep the Coalition planets safe. Just look what happened to the Olkari. And we're losing rebel ships every day," Shiro sighed. "I used to be a Paladin but now I'm sure I've condemned them to their deaths."

"This isn't the Shiro I know," Curtis said. "My Shiro is a leader, the kind of leader who saves people. You don't destroy them."

"I destroyed Keith."

Curtis swallowed hard. Carding his fingers through Shiro's sweaty hair, his heart thudding, he said, "Keith loves you, Shiro."

It nearly choked him to say it, but he couldn't hide from the truth.

"I'm the one who gave him that scar," Shiro said. "I'm the reason he's in this war."

"You weren't yourself when that scar happened."

"I was myself when I left for Kerberos. I left him behind. Adam and Keith both worried about me but I was selfish. I was myself when I challenged Zarkon and left him behind again."

"Shiro -"

"I was myself all the times Keith needed me and all I could do is tell him patience yields focus." Shiro snorts, shakes his head as if tossing the words aside. "He deserves better."

"There isn't anyone better," Curtis said.

"You don't know!" Shiro all but snapped. He tore from Curtis's embrace, raked his fingers through his hair. His eyes were wide, frantic. "I'm not as perfect as you think I am, Curtis, I'm -"

"Don't say you're fucked up," countered Curtis. "Anyone else would have let themselves fall into that void and you didn't. You'd never give up like that."

Shiro chuffed a bitter imitation of a laugh. He crossed his arms over his chest, looking at something over Curtis's shoulder. "I already did," he said.

Curtis couldn't say anything to that. He peeled Shiro's arms apart, pressed his chest to Shiro's and his cheek to Shiro's throat until Shiro finally, a lifetime later, lifted his arms and drew Curtis closer still.

They were sweaty and overexerted from exercise and emotion, but the embrace felt colder than space.

It was easier, then.

It shouldn't have been. They were in the middle of a war. Some mornings, Curtis woke up alone in his quarters terrified his faith had been misplaced, and this was the last artificial daylight he'd ever see.

He watched Voltron deal and take blow after blow, heard the voices of the Paladins on their transmissions, knew the strain they were under. He watched the MFEs launch against impossible odds. Any day, Honerva and her Alteans could have wormholed next to them and crushed them. Every day, they did just that - and more worlds fell.

Those nights, Shiro had come to Curtis and stretched out alongside him on his narrow bed, the two of them cherishing the silence. Some of those nights, Shiro had told Curtis about Adam, about Kerberos, about Voltron. He'd talked about Zarkon. Shiro told him everything and Curtis told himself that they had no secrets.

Curtis kissed the tears from the corners of Shiro's eyes when he woke from a nightmare. He curled up to Shiro's back, kissed the join of his neck and shoulder, and murmured, "You're okay. You're alive. You're here." _With me_ , he didn't say.

He kissed Shiro's hands, one human and one Altean tech, both so strong. Every night they spent together, Shiro wrapped another thread of Curtis's fate around his fingers. He held Curtis in his hands and Curtis knew he shouldn't give so much of himself, but Shiro deserved it. Shiro deserved everything.

The days had been long. The nights had been longer.

Some nights, Shiro woke screaming another name even as his legs were entwined with Curtis's.

It hurt. Curtis's heart cracked more every time. But it was worse to hear the pain in Shiro's voice, see the bone-deep fear in his eyes.

Other nights, he kissed Curtis breathless. The cracks in his heart healed with every touch of Shiro's lips. They'd fall into bed, hands tearing at each other's uniforms, barely able to peel their shirts off because it would mean parting their mouths. Curtis wanted to breathe in every part of Shiro, even the dark parts.

On those nights, Shiro slept more soundly. Curtis cherished those nights for the chance to give Shiro rest as well as pleasure.

The night before the end, Shiro was on edge. Honestly, Curtis was too, but after a tense day on the bridge, Shiro had gone to an even tenser meeting. He tried to rub that tension from Shiro's shoulders, tried licking the faint sheen of sweat from Shiro's throat and kissing away the furrow between his brows. He pulled Shiro into his lap, flicked his tongue against Shiro's lips until his frown gave way to a moan.

That night, before the end, Shiro gave voice to what Curtis had kept silent for a long time.

"I love you," he'd panted hot against Curtis's mouth.

Curtis let his hips stutter, pressing deeper inside Shiro until it felt like their hips were molten. He leaned up to drink the words directly from Shiro's lips. "I love you too, Shiro." He sucked Shiro's bottom lip in for a kiss and thrust up, just to hear Shiro cry out into his mouth.

"I love you," Curtis said the next morning, as they dressed for their last mission.

Shiro kissed him hard, hands tight enough on his waist that Curtis felt like he might bruise. He didn't care. He kissed Shiro back, hard enough that their teeth clacked together, then softened it. He peppered a few more kisses against Shiro's lips, trying to memorize the shape and taste of him. Shiro's lips were wet from their kisses, his lower lip a little chapped, but soft.

"You're going to save the universe," Curtis said. "I believe in you, Shiro."

Shiro drew him close. They held each other for the few precious seconds they had left. When they parted, Shiro squeezed his hand. Curtis swallowed hard. He squeezed back. He kept their pinkies joined as they left the room, only allowing their hands to part as they began the long walk to the bridge.

It had felt like the last time.

It hadn't been easy.

But it really had been easier then, when the stakes were the lives of his friends and the entire universe.

Better those stakes than feeling like he's got a stake in his heart.

That's maudlin and Curtis knows it, knows it's stupid. He should have faced reality sooner. He's a fool for love but he isn't a total idiot.

When New Altea first erected a statue of Allura, Shiro asked Curtis to come with him, but Curtis insisted it was more important that the Paladins be together. Curtis had known Allura through her voice over the comms, through Shiro's description of her struggles with the Alteans, from hours spent in meetings and moments afterward. He hadn't known her well. It would be wrong to intrude on the Paladins' grief for losing one of their own, a family member.

So Curtis stayed aboard the Atlas, manning his usual station while Sam temporarily stood in for Shiro on the bridge. The mood was somber. No one on their skeleton crew said much.

There wasn't anything to say, and what was left to say was too heavy.

Curtis stayed on the bridge until Sam shooed him off, announcing that Shiro would be returning to the Atlas soon to sleep.

"Don't let him be alone tonight, Curtis," said Sam, softness in his eyes that said he knew.

"Never," Curtis vowed.

"Thanks, son." Sam smiled wanly and clapped him on the shoulder. "Take care of yourself."

"You too."

Shiro did not come back that night.

He had quarters of his own, slightly bigger than Curtis's, but they had taken to tangling around each other in Curtis's bed. Shiro had a uniform in his closet, a toothbrush by his sink, a few distinctive white hairs and the spice of his aftershave decorating Curtis's pillow.

If Shiro came back, it was to his own quarters. Curtis lay with his cheek pressed into the pillow and his eyes staring into the darkness, watching a familiar shadow that had moved into his room along with Shiro.

In the mirror next morning, the shadow had made its home under Curtis's eyes. He'd slept in fits, sick with grief and worry, drifting off to memories of Shiro's kisses and the sweet taste of _I love you_ against his lips, jerking awake to screams that weren't his own, crying a name that wasn't his own.

He blinked away tears and forced a smile at his reflection, but it crumpled as he caught sight of Shiro's razor in his peripheral vision. Shiro didn't have to shave much, Curtis even less, so it wasn't usually out. In the rush to get to the planet's surface for the dedication ceremony, Shiro's normal tidiness had fallen by the wayside.

The tears shocked him but they shouldn't have.

Curtis turned from the mirror so he wouldn't have to see his red-rimmed, black-shadowed eyes.

He choked out a sick sort of laugh. Red and black, there together on his face, like they were on the planet's surface now. Like they should be. He couldn't delude himself anymore.

Knowing the truth didn't make it any easier.

Shiro came back a few hours into the morning, his own eyes bruised and puffy, thick lashes clustered together with the remnants of tears. He stumbled through the door, shedding his jacket as he did, and crumpled to his knees with his head in Curtis's lap.

Curtis lost his prepared speech in the warmth of Shiro's hands clutching at his legs. His fingers found Shiro's cheek, stroking away the dried tear tracks and tracing the shape of Shiro's jaw until the tension there melted just like Curtis's resolve.

"I love you," Curtis said. "I'm sorry."

He thinks about that day, how he'd tugged Shiro into his lap and held him there. Although they were cheek to cheek and chest to chest, Shiro had been worlds away - or at least one world away. He wishes he'd had the strength to let go then.

This would be so much easier if he'd let go then, or never started holding on to begin with. Grasping at shadows, he'd fallen farther in. By the time he realized Shiro was everything to him, it was too late to give up even though he wasn't everything to Shiro.

The worst of it is - the absolute _shit_ of it is - Keith doesn't seem to hate him.

"How's Daibazaal?" Curtis asks. "I heard Hunk's visit went well."

Keith is chopping vegetables. Curtis is washing the rice, pretending his mama isn't reeling in her grave at the prospect of a guest helping with his own dinner.

It's just the two of them. Shiro's meeting with Sam and Slav is behind schedule, and Curtis would rather offend his mother's spirit than leave Shiro hungry when he's been exposed to Slav's...peculiarities.

"It'll be a mess for awhile," Keith says. "There are a few factions holding out, and it's been tough to track down some of the Blades who're still missing, bring them into the fold of helping people rather than killing. Some, we may never find, but my mom and Kolivan won't give up."

"I'm glad you're not giving up either. The Galra need someone like you, and people like your mom and Kolivan - and I just thought, is Kolivan like, your stepdad?"

Keith drops the tomato he's just picked up. It rolls toward the sink but he doesn't move at first to recover it. "I'm...not sure?"

Their hands touch as they both reach for the escaped tomato. Curtis forces himself not to rip his hand away. This situation isn't Keith's fault. It's his own.

Keith is only human. Well...half-human, but parentage aside, Keith's fingertips are warm against Curtis's and his heart would still bleed if he knew what's gone through Curtis's mind. Keith has been Shiro's truest friend, was the one to save Shiro from death and from himself. Curtis is grateful. Really, in spite of everything, he is.

Bringing himself back to the present, Curtis says, "Sorry, that was kind of an awkward question. Anyway. I know the Galra Empire was already changing by the time...everything happened, but change is still slow and I think it's important, what you're doing."

Keith is quiet for a moment before he says, "Thanks." Then he goes back to dicing the tomato, and Curtis knows he isn't imagining the slight hunch to Keith's shoulders.

"It must've been nice, having Hunk there," Curtis prompts when the silence stretches too thin between them.

"Hunk saved me from ration bars. Kolivan seems to think they're the only food in the galaxy. He's like a picky kid, except he only likes field rations."

Curtis smiles. "Not even the pickiest eater would turn down Hunk's cooking."

"Right?" Keith smiles back. "And he brought Shay, which was nice. It's nice, seeing him happy."

His smile curdles slightly at the corners as he looks up from dicing. Their eyes lock, and Curtis feels his throat tighten at the intensity of Keith's gaze.

For just a moment, he can understand completely how a man could live and die in those eyes.

He tries and fails to swallow the lump in his throat. He hopes Keith doesn't notice. It's bad enough, the piercing _softness_ of Keith's violet eyes.

"It's nice seeing Shiro happy too," Keith says, almost a whisper.

Curtis can't seem to move his lips. His own rueful smile is bound to crack under the pressure.

"Thank you," says Keith, even softer now. "For being here for him." The knife in his hand is no longer moving but it may as well be buried in Curtis's chest. "I - I want him to be happy."

"Me too." Curtis can no longer meet Keith's eyes and he realizes his smile has given in, but he won't let his voice fail him. "I love him."

Keith doesn't say anything.

It would be easier if he did.

For a moment, Curtis savors the thought of Keith telling him the truth. It's like pressing his fingers into a bruise, the bloom of pain grounding him. Maybe it would be cathartic, hearing the words - Keith giving voice to what they both already know.

But Curtis isn't the one Keith should say those words to.

"Keith, I never thought I'd see you in the kitchen," says Shiro, coming in. He breezes a kiss over the corner of Curtis's mouth, leans against the counter next to Keith and looks over at Curtis with a smile. "And I never thought you'd let a guest help with cooking."

"Hey, no matter what Hunk says, I do at least know how to use a knife," Keith protests.

"And I like having the help," Curtis adds. "The more help, the sooner we feed a certain someone."

"Yeah, before that _someone_ gets cranky because he had to spend another hour with Slav," says Keith, side-eyeing Shiro with a wry smile.

"Don't remind me," says Shiro. "Maybe in another universe, I could forget. But if I have to unbutton my jacket, turn left before coming in the door, or anything else one more time -"

"You said don't remind you. Keith, thanks for the help, but why don't I finish dinner?" Curtis forces his fingers not to tremble as he starts the rice cooker. "You two can go catch up. It'll be done soon."

He'd like to say he doesn't know what possesses him, but he knows exactly why he leans in and brushes a kiss of his own over Shiro's cheek. "Go on," he urges.

As Shiro follows Keith out of the kitchen, Curtis wheels and turns his back. He won't watch over his shoulder.

This is how it's supposed to be.

It was almost easier when Curtis was sleeping with a ghost in his bed, rather than in his guest bedroom.

Keith isn't on a tight schedule to return to Daibazaal. Apart from spending a few days with Pidge (and Chip) in one of her labs, he's been home with Shiro and Curtis for most of his visit to Earth. Well, and apart from their trip into the desert to go flying together, like old times. Shiro had admitted to Curtis, back on the Atlas, that he missed the rush of wind and adrenalin, the hours spent competing with Keith over who could catch the most air.

"I haven't been a good friend to him ever since we first got back to Earth," Shiro had said. "Even before that, I kept letting other things get in the way."

Now, with Keith visiting, Curtis makes sure nothing gets in the way of Shiro spending time with him. That includes Curtis himself. He pays his own visit to Pidge, watching her frantic typing and the poetry she makes out of circuits and wires. Of all the Paladins, he's spent the most time with her. Pidge is at the Garrison more often than the others, and she's always grateful when he brings her coffee (conveniently forgetting Colleen's orders not to enable Pidge's insomnia).

He wanders the mall every other day, visiting familiar vendors and telling off a few who are selling contraband pieces of fallen Garrison fighters and broken Galra equipment.

He also visits the memorial.

He didn't know Adam well, but they both loved the same man. He wonders what Adam would do in his place - if Adam would have been fool enough to stay, or strong enough to accept the truth.

Maybe Adam would have been enough, so Shiro wouldn't wake up with Keith's name on his lips.

The night before Keith leaves, Shiro kicks them both out of the kitchen. He's been out running errands all day, first by himself and later, with Keith.

Curtis tries not to dwell on it. Instead, he dwells on the dark circles under Keith's eyes and how the bruised shadows against his pale skin and violet eyes only seem to amplify his unfair, unearthly good looks.

It's a relief when Keith excuses himself to talk to Krolia.

Curtis heaves himself to his feet and wanders to the framed photo of himself and Shiro, taken the day after they'd moved in here. They're smiling with their arms around each other, standing by the front door in the old shirts they'd worn to move furniture. He stares at that photo for a long time, mentally contrasting his dark skin not with Shiro's, but with Keith's. In the photo, Shiro's eyes are crinkled at the corners, relaxed and so happy. Curtis's photo self is beaming like he can't believe his luck.

He still feels the same way. Curtis touches the frame, like it'll somehow ground him, and turns around just as Shiro peeks from the kitchen and says dinner is almost done.

"Where's Keith?" Shiro asks.

"He needed to call his mom," says Curtis. "Want me to get him?"

"I'll do it."

Dinner is more fun than Curtis expected. Shiro pulled out all the stops for the last night of Keith's visit, cooking all the time-consuming Japanese recipes he makes only for special occasions. It's delicious - even Hunk would be impressed. He'd probably even tear up. Curtis definitely hears himself moan a few times as he eats. He savors the pink bloom across Shiro's cheeks and the way Keith's eyes flicker wider before he blinks in surprise.

"Thank you," Keith says, when they're done. "For dinner, and for having me."

"You're always welcome here, Keith," says Shiro. "You'll always be part of our lives."

Curtis nods. His throat seems to be too tight, too sore to speak, but he manages to hold up his smile.

"I know, and I'm sorry I don't come more often," Keith says. "It's strange, being back on Earth and having a - a family meal. I never thought this is how it'd end."

Shiro reaches across the table and clasps Keith's hand in his. His thumb traces over Keith's knuckles, draws slow circles over the back of Keith's hand.

Curtis clenches his own hand in the fabric of his pants.

"It ended better than we ever thought it would. I never thought I'd be here with you, back at the Garrison."

"Where it all started," Keith breathes.

Curtis can barely breathe himself. He should look away from Shiro's hand wrapped around Keith's, from the strings of fate he can practically see twined around their fingers. Shiro has had his fate tangled in his grip and now Curtis feels like he's been cut loose, swaying in the desert wind outside.

He can't look away. The man he knew would be his future is looking at another man as though Curtis is already in the past - no, as though Curtis never was to begin with.

Then suddenly, Shiro's Altean hand is on Curtis's knee, his thumb pressing gently into Curtis's thigh.

Curtis can breathe again, if only for now.

It's always only for now, isn't it?

The day after Keith leaves, Shiro has a day full of meetings and Curtis has to go back to work too, although he makes time for lunch with Veronica and Acxa. He has a bet with Pidge, who insists they're 'not a thing.'

They're totally a thing.

"See you later tonight," says Veronica when they part ways.

Curtis is too caught up in mentally gloating to Pidge to wonder why that sounds strange.

That night, the perpetual wind has petered out to a gentle whisper. It's warmer without the wind, but Curtis takes his time walking home, finally able to breathe.

At home, Shiro is leaning up against the front door, and before Curtis can ask what's going on, Shiro asks him to go for a ride together.

The bluffs overlooking the Garrison provide a breathtaking view of the sunset. Curtis has come here once or twice with Shiro. Right after they returned to Earth, they stayed up here from sundown until the galaxy was streaking overhead, accompanied by clouds of their breath in the cold night air.

In the fading golden sunset, as the evening star first flickers into view, Shiro drops to one knee and slides a ring onto Curtis's finger.

At home, all their friends are there - Veronica and Acxa, the Holts and N-7, Rizavi, Griffin, Leifsdottir, and of course Kinkade with his camera documenting it all - and Curtis can't help crying with happiness.

This is it, he thinks.

This is the future.

That night, Curtis goes to bed for the first time in nearly a year without a ghost between the sheets.

He and Shiro usually crash together, teeth and tongues clashing, but tonight Shiro kisses Curtis slow and deep. Their mouths only part for Shiro to trace a path down Curtis's body with his lips and tongue. Shiro clasps their hands together, their fingers remaining intertwined even as Curtis grips at Shiro's hips to ground himself when Shiro presses inside him. A slow, sweet bloom of pain and then Curtis is panting Shiro's name.

"Takashi," he tastes the name for the first time. It finally feels right. " _Takashi_. I love you."

Shiro gasps as Curtis locks his ankles at the small of Shiro's back, pulling him in closer. His gasp closes into a velar sound, the beginning of Curtis's name. "C-Curtis," he groans, "Love you."

"Takashi, please!"

Afterward, Shiro kisses the ring on Curtis's finger again and again, like if it leaves his lips, it'll disappear. He falls asleep with Curtis's left hand tucked against his cheek, and Curtis keeps it there, looking at his future husband's sleeping face with his heart so full and his smile so wide it aches.

"Keith! No, Keith! Don't go - please!"

Curtis flies awake. His heart aches in a different, familiar way. He bites the inside of his cheek 

He was wrong before. This - _this_ is the future.

"Keith!"

Curtis shifts in bed to curl against Shiro's side. Some nightmares leave Shiro flailing so much that getting closer would mean a fist to the face. This one is different.

"Don't leave me -" Shiro gasps awake, rolling to face Curtis. His eyes aren't wide and white-ringed with fear, but clenched shut with the threat of tears.

"It was a dream," Curtis soothes, kissing the corners of Shiro's eyes. He adds, deliberately obtuse, "I won't leave."

"No, it's Keith - where is Keith?"

"On Daibazaal, safe with Krolia and Kolivan," says Curtis. "Want me to call him?"

Blinking away his tears, Shiro lets out a rattling breath. "I'll be fine. I'm sorry I woke you up. Get back to sleep."

He kisses Curtis and closes his eyes, but Curtis lies awake for what feels like hours, and Shiro's body is still tense against his, his heartbeat still a rabbiting thrum.

Some nights stretch like that one, leaving Curtis with answers to all his worst questions and fears. Other nights, he and Shiro walk in the desert together for hours, planning their wedding. It's everything Curtis never dared to dream.

Some nights, they cook together and Shiro laughs at how hopeless Curtis is at rolling sushi. That experiment is a total failure, and Curtis eventually declares, "It's a sushi bowl," and eats it along with his pride.

They go on a few double dates with Acxa and Veronica. (Pidge pays up. Beezer, a true champion, captures a photo of the moment Pidge realizes she's lost the bet.) Acxa is still awkward around anyone who isn't her new girlfriend. Curtis tries not to drop the roll he's buttering when she talks about a planned visit to Daibazaal.

"We should visit sometime too," Shiro suggests, beaming at Curtis so brightly it makes his heart clench. "Keith could use a break, and we could stop in and visit Lance on the way home."

"We'll see them both at the wedding soon," says Curtis. "Let's plan for after the wedding. Is that okay?"

"Of course it's okay! Whatever you want," says Shiro.

Veronica makes a gagging noise and Acxa has a pinched, uncomfortable look on her face. "I won't be able to eat dessert. You two are so sappy, it's putting me off sugar," Veronica complains.

"Just wait until you're planning your own wedding," Curtis says. He laughs when Acxa drops her fork with a clatter.

Shiro tries to level a reproachful look at Curtis, but the Captain Shirogane Stare doesn't work when the corner of Shiro's mouth is twitching into a smile of his own.

Later, Shiro says, "I meant what I said. Whatever you want, that's what will make me happy."

"I'd be especially happy if my fiancé would come to bed," says Curtis, tugging at Shiro's hand to draw him toward the bedroom.

"Yes, sir," Shiro teases.

On the best nights, Shiro kisses Curtis breathless, and it's easy to believe that the ring on his finger is proof he's someone's first choice - a promise that Shiro loves him, that this is their future.

Curtis swallows the bile in his throat and the ache in his heart on the worst nights. He'd rather forget those. In the blur of finalizing his wedding, it's easier to forget Shiro's long calls to Daibazaal, or how he screams awake searching for a man a galaxy away while Curtis is lying there beside him.

He would do anything for Shiro. He can't help himself.

He's so in love, and he knows firsthand that love can be hard.

The rehearsal, on the other hand, is...easier than Curtis thought it would be.

Keith is Shiro's best man and he arrives on Earth the night before the rehearsal, complaining half-heartedly about sharing a room with Lance. When Lance arrives, he shocks everyone by flinging his arms around Keith with a heartfelt, "Keith! I really missed you and your mullet. It's been too long!"

"I -I -" Keith stammers. He lifts his arms, his hands hovering awkwardly for a moment, until he traps Lance in what looks like a bone-crushing hug. "You too. I guess."

"You guess _what_?" Lance challenges, although it's muffled from his face being buried in Keith's shoulder.

"I guess I missed being roped into picking tomatoes and milking cows. Although it'd be nice to see Kaltenecker again." Keith slowly releases his hold on Lance and stands back, smirking.

"Don't pretend you were only coming for the fresh dairy. You need some Lancey Lance to liven things up."

Keith rolls his eyes. "I definitely don't come for the 'Lancey Lance.'" He puts the nickname in air quotes.

"Whoa, Keith! You used air quotes! Who _are_ you? Are you really Keith?"

"You just called me Keith. Twice."

Lance sputters and throws his arm around Keith's shoulders, tugging like he can't decide between putting Keith in a headlock or putting his arms back around him. "You know you're welcome anytime," he says sincerely.

The way Lance can't meet Keith's eyes, and the way Keith stares open-mouthed at Lance, makes something twist in Curtis's stomach.

"Well, it has been forever since I've been able to see you, and I know it's hard for you to come offworld to visit me. So yeah, I guess I have missed your loud mouth and the way you're always late, and I guess you're not so bad with a gun. And it'd be nice to fly together again. You could work on your piloting skills. You're probably rusty."

"Keith! You just said you missed me!" Lance cheers. The arm around Keith's shoulder tightens into a full-on embrace. "In your own backhanded, Keith-y way, you just admitted you missed me!"

"Nope, don't remember. Didn't happen," says Keith.

He and Lance draw out of the hug and stare at each other for a long moment before they both erupt into laughter.

"I'll leave you two to catch up," Curtis says before making a quick retreat.

He's not sure they even hear him. Lance is leaning his head against Keith's shoulder, bent over with laughter, and although Keith has his arms crossed, his eyes are more vibrant than Curtis has ever seen them.

As Curtis rounds the corner, he nearly runs into Shiro.

Shiro looks stricken, his hand resting on the doorframe like he wants to go talk to Keith and Lance, but he's frozen.

"Shiro?"

Shiro blinks. A flash of pain flickers across his face, only to be erased by a soft, fond smile. "It's good to know some things never change," he says. "I'll get Keith and Lance settled in. Can you call and check on Hunk? He's probably terrorizing Sal over the cake."

"Rescue Sal. Got it," Curtis says.

With less than twenty-four hours left before his wedding, Curtis finds himself at loose ends. The suits are pressed and hanging in the closet, the juniberry flower centerpieces Lance made are boxed neatly in the fridge, and Hunk is sufficiently satisfied with the quality of the cake so he's no longer fussing over buttercream roses. Veronica, Matt, Kinkade, and Rizavi have all checked in with him and promised to be early for photos tomorrow.

In less than twenty-four hours, he's going to marry Shiro. He's marrying a former Paladin of Voltron, captain of the IGF Atlas, _the_ Takashi Shirogane.

Shiro, with his heroic heart, his beautiful smile, his secret soft spot for that _terrible_ Voltron show, his strange aversion to eating bell pepper. Shiro, who is steadfast and resolute, whether in a mindless argument about toothpaste in the sink or in standing up for what's right. Shiro, whose charisma makes soldiers want to live by his example and give their lives by his word.

Shiro with his ghosts, his nightmares, his stubborn single-mindedness. His tendency to distance himself and act aloof when he feels like he's opened up too much.

Shiro, who loves another man.

He's in love with Keith.

But he also loves Curtis. Shiro is truthful to a fault, and Curtis knows he means it when he says _I love you_.

Curtis has known for over a year that he isn't Shiro's everything, and he's hoped that his own everything is enough.

It'll have to be.

He spins the ring on his finger, admiring it in the glow of the setting sun through his bedroom window. Just as his smile threatens to give way to tears, Shiro slips into the room as if summoned.

"Hey, future Mr. Shirogane," he says, wrapping his arms around Curtis from behind. He kisses Curtis's hair, his ear, the nape of his neck. "You look so beautiful in the sunset."

"Who are you trying to flatter, Captain Shirogane? You've already won me over." But Curtis turns his head so their lips can meet.

Shiro lowers his hands to Curtis's waist. "Can't a man compliment his husband? You really are beautiful," he murmurs. "Sometimes I can't believe you're willing to stay with me." He kisses Curtis again, this time with a gentle nip at Curtis's lower lip. "And don't start with the 'Captain' thing."

"I'll always stay with you," vows Curtis. "Captain."

Shiro unleashes a quiet growl and drags him backward, toward their bed.

Afterward, Shiro's eyes slide shut, his breath going even and slow through his slightly parted lips. Curtis leans in and trails reverent fingers over his jaw, his throat, down the broad, perfect definition of his chest.

Shiro hums in his sleep, shifting closer. The moonbeam streaming through the window catches his hair alight with silver flame. He's so heartbreakingly beautiful. For all the times Curtis has thought himself a fool for staying, now he knows he'd be a bigger fool to leave.

He spoons himself around Shiro, buries his face in that chest, and lets himself dream.

Their wedding really is like a dream itself. One moment, Curtis is at the end of the aisle. Shiro seems so far away at the end of it, so handsome and perfect in his suit. Their gazes lock and as Shiro's face splits in a tearful grin, Curtis swallows his own tears and faces his future. The next moment, their hands are joined and Curtis should be listening to what Sam is saying, but the only thing he cares about anymore is the light in Shiro's eyes.

After their first dance, Matt yells something about turning it up. Then everyone is on the dance floor, and Curtis can't remember anything but laughing, pressed between Shiro and Matt. Distantly, he catches sight of Lance on the sidelines, watching all of them with a rueful smile. He sees Keith take a seat beside Lance, sees Lance shrug and look away. Before Curtis can register anything else, Rizavi leaps at him, demanding a dance.

It's only later, after they've cut the cake and he's dancing in Shiro's arms, that Curtis catches his breath and allows it to all feel real. Heedless of who's watching, he kisses Shiro slow and deep. Shiro tightens his arms around Curtis's waist and deepens the kiss, his tongue tracing the seam of Curtis's lips.

"Remember that arm wrestling contest you won on Clear Day?" Curtis asks when they finally break for air.

"Yeah."

"When I saw you up there holding your trophy, I wanted to kiss you just like that," says Curtis.

"You could have."

Curtis just laughs, because of course he couldn't have. They'd been spending time together for awhile then, but neither of them had given it a name yet. If Curtis told himself from a year ago that he would be living with Shiro, that they'd be kissing on the dance floor at their wedding, that he would be _married_ to Shiro, his past self would have scoffed and fled the scene.

He takes advantage of his good fortune and kisses Shiro again.

Maybe it's anticlimactic, going home together to their familiar bed at the end of the night. But it feels so good to take off his suit, to reach across the bed so he can hold Shiro's left hand in his own.

In the morning, he's alone in bed and his side is cold. Curtis wanders down the hall and stops dead in his tracks.

The door to the room Keith and Lance are sharing is open. They're covered - mostly - by the tangled sheets and comforter.

They're naked. Lance's neck is freckled with distinctive bruises and Keith's normally mussed hair is beyond disheveled.

Curtis should be relieved. Hell, he should be _elated_.

He spent over a year of his life sharing Shiro with the ghost of what could have been, with memories of Keith and words left unspoken. He should feel vindicated.

Instead, his blood is ice in his veins and he can barely lift his feet as he shuffles downstairs.

Shiro is sitting on the kitchen floor, his back against the counter, head in his hands. His wedding ring glints in the morning sunlight streaming through the window and Curtis bites the inside of his cheek to distract from the pang in his heart.

At the sound of Curtis's footsteps, Shiro looks up. His mouth is taut at first, eyes hooded.

"Takashi," says Curtis, and Shiro jerks like he's had a revelation, like the strings holding him have been yanked.

For a moment, Shiro's eyes are wide, pained, and then he closes his expression. Although his professional mask is usually a masterwork, this morning, all the cracks are showing, and Curtis can read a lifetime of heartbreak in Shiro's dark eyes.

"Takashi," he says again.

"You saw."

Curtis nods.

"You know."

Curtis nods again. "I've always known."

"You knew all this time, and you still said yes?"

"I can't help that I'm in love with you," says Curtis. "That's always had to be enough for me."

Shiro sighs. It's a dark, visceral, almost wet sound, as if he's bleeding internally. When he looks up at Curtis, his eyes look bruised, their light from yesterday and all the days before it faded. "You deserve so much better."

Curtis sinks to the floor to sit in front of Shiro. Taking Shiro's hands in his own, he kisses Shiro's wedding ring in an echo of all the times Shiro kissed his. Shiro tries to flinch away, but Curtis holds firm. He turns Shiro's hand over, kisses the palm.

"For me, there is no better than you," he says.

"How can you say that?" Shiro demands, shaking his head. "This - if this is even half of what I've put you through -"

"It's not," Curtis says, bluntly.

He winces at himself, immediately scoots closer to Shiro and clasps both Shiro's hands in his own.

"It's not," he tries again, more like a whisper, "but all I ever wanted, all I _want_ , is you to be happy, Takashi."

"I don't know if I ever will be."

A tear escapes down Curtis's cheek, then another. He slides into the space between Shiro's legs and wraps Shiro in his arms, burying his burning tears in the cool join of Shiro's bare shoulder and his Altean arm.

"I meant everything I said yesterday," Curtis says. "I vow to love you and honor you. If that means honoring your love for Keith -"

Shiro interrupts him. "I meant what I said yesterday too. I mean it, when I say I love you. I just -"

"Love Keith."

Shiro strokes Curtis's hair, resting his hand at the nape of Curtis's neck. "I love him. I couldn't live without him."

"You don't have to." Curtis chuffs a bitter laugh. "It's fucked up, saying this the day after our wedding. But I mean it when I say I want you to be happy. If you love Keith…" he trails off. Despite his best intentions, he can't bring himself to finish that thought.

"Keith has Lance now."

Curtis can't say anything, can't even nod. His breath feels frozen in his lungs. The only warm parts of him are his tears and the heat of Shiro's hand against his neck.

"I always knew it could happen. That Keith could leave me. He'd leave me and I'd deserve it, for scarring him and pushing him away. It was my worst nightmare," Shiro admitted.

But, "I know," says Curtis, because he does.

"I guess I believed I'd make my peace with it when it came, and now I've dragged you into this too."

"Give me some credit. I'm capable of making my own decisions. If I decided to love you, to fall in love with you, knowing damn good and well that I'd always be second to Keith in your eyes, that's my choice."

"We don't choose who we fall in love with," says Shiro. "I would've chosen it to be only you."

"I know," says Curtis again.

"I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too."

Curtis kisses Shiro's shoulder. He lifts his head and kisses the tears pooling at the corner of Shiro's mouth. Then, after brushing the tears away, he traces the shape of his wedding ring with his thumb.

He slips the ring off. Taking Shiro's hand, he opens it and presses the ring inside. As he closes Shiro's fingers around it, he realizes how small, almost fragile, it looks against Shiro's strong palm.

"You don't have to do this anymore, Takashi," he says. "I won't get in your way."

"Curtis -" Shiro chokes on a gasp.

"I love you, Takashi Shirogane. Nothing will change that. But I can't do this. Not for the rest of our lives."

Curtis finds himself at the memorial wall, still in his pajamas.

The cool of night has yet to lift from the desert, and he shivers as he stands, glancing over all the names before settling on the one he's come to see.

This is stupid. He's stupid, a damn fool. He got married yesterday. He doesn't know _what_ he is today. He's in love - always will be, despite himself - and that was enough once.

He doesn't know if it is now. He hopes against hope that love is enough, or will be.

He only had a ring on his finger for six months and a day, but already he feels the chill of its absence. He feels the chill of the stone too, as he presses his hand against Adam's name on the wall.

If only Adam had been Shiro's only ghost. It would have been so much easier if Curtis had only faced the echoes of a dead man. A hero, beloved, but dead and gone, his ashes scattered or interred or - Curtis had come to the wall countless times now, and he realized he still didn't know.

Years ago, he hadn't been able to do more than offer platitudes. To apologize because Adam was the one left behind. Now, left behind himself, he feels a deeper connection to Adam.

"I'm sorry," he says to Adam's photo on the memorial.

"I'm sorry too."

Curtis wheels around, nearly falling over as he overbalances himself. He catches himself before Shiro can reach out to him.

Shiro is still in the well-worn Garrison-issue sweatpants he slept in, a tank top his only concession to a possible audience. But their only audience is Adam's face, watching them from the stone.

Tightening his fist, Shiro looks at Adam's memorial for a moment before his eyes catch Curtis's and hold them. In the late morning sun, his hair is burnished gold. Curtis bites his lip, searching for the too-familiar shadow behind Shiro's eyes, but all he can see is gold.

"I'm sorry," Shiro says. "I promised you a lot of things. I meant all of them. I can't promise you that it will be easier, because I don't want to betray another vow to you. I want to be your husband. I don't deserve your forgiveness, but I hope I can at least have a chance to earn it."

Curtis stares, disbelieving. Shiro seems to him as ghostly, as unreal, as the apparition of Keith that hung over their relationship and darkened Shiro's eyes for the past year. Curtis reaches out, planning to press his hand to Shiro's chest - to tell if he's really there, or to push him away, he hasn't decided - but Shiro catches Curtis's hand in his.

"Let me make it up to you. I've broken a lot of promises, but the one I won't break is this."

As Curtis withdraws his hand, Shiro gives it a final squeeze and drops his wedding ring into Curtis's palm.

"Curtis," says Shiro. "Come home."

**Author's Note:**

> Phew...my first work in this fandom after lurking for years. It's been a crazy ride, from reading everyone's amazing fics to crying over this beautiful mess of a show.
> 
> Thanks, Voltron fandom. I love you all. Please don't kill me for shipping Shurtis (or whatever we're calling it).


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